Epilogophilia: The Career Breaker
by cheride
Summary: What's wrong with a little expediency, anyway?


_As always, the characters and concepts of Hardcastle and McCormick do not belong to me, but to their creators._

I send a heartfelt word of gratitude and affection to Deb and Lynn; I figure they know why.

* * *

**Epilogophilia: The Career Breaker**

_Hardcastle takes a vacation to participate in a fishing contest. After making some observations to the local sheriff about a wrecked and abandoned plane, the sheriff's sixteen-year-old daughter accuses him of rape. After the sheriff makes an abortive attempt to kill the judge "while trying to escape", McCormick comes to his rescue and breaks him out of jail. Hardcastle determines that the sheriff set up the rape charge and returns to the site of the plane crash. He and McCormick find the sheriff and his accomplices selling drugs from the wreck to a major dealer, break in on them and collar all the bad guys. The judge is cleared of the rape charges and McCormick gets his name mispronounced by a television broadcaster._

**Epilogue**—by Cheride

"Mark? What're you doing here?"

McCormick looked up at the figure approaching him from the other end of the hallway. "Hey, Frank. We're giving some statements to the Kern County guys, about the Canary Creek thing; they agreed to do some of the preliminary stuff here. What about you?"

"Oh, just testimony on a regular old murder case." Lieutenant Harper dropped onto the bench next to McCormick. "Nothing as interesting as a rape frame to cover up illicit drug deals by corrupt police officers."

Mark grinned. "Just a typical weekend when you book your outings with the Hardcastle Travel Service."

The detective grinned back at him. "Yeah, well, I can't believe you guys have been back home almost a week now and haven't invited me out for a beer to tell me the whole story." The grin faded. "And I can't believe _you_ didn't call me when you realized there was trouble going on up there."

"There wasn't time, Frank," McCormick answered apologetically. "I only went up there because Hardcase was bored. I'd barely heard about the arrest when I found that crazy sheriff trying to kill him. After that, I just sort of went on auto-pilot." He shrugged. "I really didn't think about calling for reinforcements."

"It's that kind of automatic response that's gonna get you in real trouble one of these days," Harper told him. "I couldn't believe it when I heard on the news that you'd broken him out of jail."

"You recognized me from my description, huh?" the younger man said with a laugh. "Well, you know how it is with us gangly, narrow-eyed accomplices; we can be impulsive. But don't worry; the judge already gave me essentially the same speech. You know, 'don't be breaking the law; trust the system', blah, blah, blah. He forgets the system is made up of people, and some of those people just can't be trusted." McCormick shook his head. "One of these days you'd think he'd figure that out. But until he does, somebody's gotta be around to keep his hash outta the fire, so I guess I'll have to keep being the impulsive one."

"That's a dangerous strategy," Harper said.

The ex-con gestured at the wall behind him. "It's really not so bad up until the point you have to go into a room full of lawyers and talk about it."

"Somehow I doubt that," Frank chuckled ruefully. "I've seen you two in action, remember? Anyway, just keep in mind that I'd feel better if you'd remember you don't have to do it all alone."

Mark smiled at him. "Okay. Next time we go on vacation, you can come along."

And then a third voice was speaking from an opening door. "Okay, sport; you're up." The judge glanced at Harper. "Hey, Frank."

"Milt."

McCormick tensed slightly as he rose slowly to his feet. "How'd it go?"

"Went fine," Hardcastle answered. "And it's gonna go fine for you, too."

With a wary look at the door, Mark replied, "I still don't know why you can't be in there with me. I'm entitled to an attorney."

"Look, kiddo, we've been over this. I can't be an attorney and a witness on the same case. Jeremy Alaimo is already in there waiting, and he's a perfectly fine attorney. I trust him. Besides, there's nothing for you to worry about here. Now get in there, tell 'em what they need to hear, and then I'll take you to lunch, okay?"

"Okay." McCormick gave a single resigned sigh, and disappeared into the conference room.

Hardcastle sank down next to the detective. "So what're you doin' here, Frank?" There was a weariness in his tone that hadn't been there when speaking with the younger man.

"Testimony in the Tommy Millotti case," Harper answered. He looked over at his friend. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'll just be glad when this whole business is over."

The detective arched a concerned eyebrow. "I had the impression everything was cleared up already. Is there more going on that's been kept out of circulation? They got everyone involved up there in Canary Creek, didn't they? They aren't still trying to make anything stick against you?"

"No, no; nothin' like that." The judge waved a hand dismissively, then jerked a thumb at the door he'd exited minutes earlier. "It's McCormick. He really doesn't like this part of the job."

Harper grinned slightly. "Maybe he just doesn't like talking to the authorities," he suggested. "Old habits die hard, you know."

"Nah," the judge shook his head, "that's not it." He pulled in a breath. "He's just always waiting for the other shoe to drop; always afraid someone's going to decide he's crossed too far over the line. Even though I already told him I took care of everything with the parole board, and these guys are on our side."

"So you had to talk to the board, huh? There _was_ stuff to take care of?"

Hardcastle rolled his eyes. "This is McCormick we're talking about here; there's _always_ stuff to take care of."

"He made it sound pretty routine," Harper told him.

"Yeah, that's because it _is_ pretty routine for him," Hardcastle snapped. He looked over at the detective. "You know what I realized while we were out there? He's really pretty damn good at a con."

"Hah. You're only just now figuring that out?"

"I'm serious, Frank. I was watching him up there. It's like falling off a log for him."

"Maybe because it was important to him that it work," the lieutenant suggested. "He had a lot at stake."

Hardcastle nodded. "Yeah, I get that. But you know what it made me think? I was thinking how easy it would've been for him with me, when he first came to Gulls Way."

"To con you, you mean?" Harper asked incredulously. "Maybe you give him too much credit."

But Hardcastle shook his head. "I don't think so. It's natural for him. Hell, I think he thinks it's _fun_. But he rushes into some of these things . . . he doesn't think through the consequences. Sometimes even when _I_ tell him to do things, he doesn't question it like he should."

The detective twisted around suddenly to face the jurist directly. "You _want_ him to question you?"

"No, of course not. But sometimes I do wish he'd slow down just a little bit." He sighed heavily and swiped a thumb across his nose. "You know why he worries when he has to start answering questions? Because he works expediently. Legal comes in pretty far down his list sometimes."

"Yeah." Harper turned again and leaned back against the bench, preparing to wait with his friend. "But I don't think you're gonna change him now."

Hardcastle nodded as he stretched his legs out and got comfortable. "Yeah," he spoke philosophically, "you're probably right. And I guess it's been working pretty well for him so far."

"Yep." Harper matched the pose, then glanced over at the judge. "Lucky for you," he added.

It took a minute, but then the older man smiled. "Yeah. You're probably right about that, too."


End file.
